


Stab Wound

by Merixcil



Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Blood and Gore, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Incest, bad medical practice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 08:14:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25467595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Dennis stabs Dee
Relationships: Dee Reynolds & Dennis Reynolds, Dee Reynolds/Dennis Reynolds
Series: Whumptober 2019 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1838356
Kudos: 6





	Stab Wound

At first, the only thought Dee can process is that he hadn’t really meant it. Then she takes a deep breath, tries not to let the entire focus of her world become the screaming ache in her side, and decides that he probably did. 

“You stabbed me!” She shrieks and God, does her voice really sound like that all the time? So high and whiny. Blegh, she’s gotta work on that. “Goddamit! Son of a motherfucker! Why’d you do that?”

“Please, Dee.” Dennis sneers. “That’s hardly a stab wound, it’s a pinprick at best.”

“At best? At best there’s a fucking knife in my side.”

“Yeah, but you know, it’s just a little one.” Dennis shuffles himself into an approximation of casual. “And in all fairness, you were being a colossal bitch.”

Dee’s eyes narrow over him, the hip cocked slightly too far, the tight draw of his mouth, the wide eyed panic trying to keep itself in check by force of a less than convincing smile. Son of a bitch is shitting himself. 

Then her stomach cramps and all Dee can think about is how much it fucking sucks to have a knife in your side. She gives the thing an ineffectual tug and it doesn’t budge. 

“Dennis!” She groans. “Come on, help me get this thing out?”

“Out?” Dennis splutters. “Out? Right here, in my living room? No way Dee, you’re gonna bleed all over the place.”

“Well maybe you should have thought about that before you stabbed me!”

“I poked you!”

“Cut the fucking crap!” Dee makes to strangle him and everything is on fire. “Ow, ow, ow. Shit! Motherfucking scrotum ballsack shit!”

For the longest time, Dennis just watches her, and she can practically see the gears twisting in his head. Trying to decide if it's worth maybe admitting that he fucked up over this. He nods slowly to himself, running a hand over his face and coming up all smiles. 

“Ok, Dee, you know what, maybe I went a little overboard this time and-”

“Maybe?!”

“Please don’t interrupt me when I’m talking, Dee, it’s the height of bad manners. Anyway, as I was saying, if you can get yourself to the bathroom, where I don’t mind if you have to bleed a little, I’ll help you get that thing out. What do you say?”

Worst deal ever, but it’s not like Dee has insurance and she’s not exactly in a hurry to pick up a new line of debt for the sake of an ambulance ride. She’s pretty sure she blacks out on the way to the bathroom, given that by the time she’d sat on the edge of Mac and Dennis’s bathtub, a whole lot cleaner than her own, she has no idea how she got here from the living room. 

Dennis appears in the bathroom doorway, wearing a sour expression that doesn’t reach to his eyes. “Didn’t think you could do it.”

“Yeah you did.” She snaps. “Come on, get this goddamn knife out of me.”

“Knife.” Dennis roles his eyes. “It’s barely a dagger.” But he moves over, pushing Dee into the bath and ignoring her when she swears loudly. 

Having a knife pulled out of you, is a much slower and more painful experience than having it put in. Dee wriggles and squirms, trying to escape but in the bath there’s nowhere to run. Dennis grabs her by the back of the head and holds her down, yelling something about how he’ll break her neck if she doesn’t shut the fuck up right this instant. 

“Easy.” He breathes, finally, as the knife comes free. Dee can feel the space it leaves behind, everything that was hot now turning cold and everything that was cold setting itself on fire. She looks down and sees blood spurting from the injury, like a fountain. 

“What the shit, Dennis?” She means to yell but her voice comes out thin and raspy. 

“Pressure.” Dennis tells her. Calm and matter of fact. “You need to apply pressure to the wound, here.”

And she knows he’s taking it seriously because he doesn’t even look before grabbing a towel off the side and throwing it in her direction. It’s rich purple and plush and definitely his. At least she’s not having to bleed into one of Mac’s filthy rags. 

Dee bundles up the towel as best as she can and pushes down hard over the wound. It doesn’t feel like it’s doing much, but it feels better to be doing something than nothing. Dennis stands back, leaning against the sink with his arms folded to watch her, telling her to get her act together every time her arm starts to loosen. 

“Alright.” He says after an age that can’t have been longer than five minutes has passed. “Let’s take a look.”

Dee doesn’t have it in her to tell him to get fucked when he rips her shirt off. He pushes the towel aside and frowns down determinedly at the wound. “Ok, I’m not too big to admit when I’ve gone too far. You know what though Dee? This is a clean wound, you’re gonna have a neat little scar when this heals.”

Nothing about the injury feels small, but the knife is sat on the edge of the bath and Dee can see that it’s no more than half an inch wide. It doesn’t seem possible that it was inside her, that it did so much damage. Her brain formulates half a joke about how it’s no different than every dick she’s ever say on in that regard, but gives up pretty quickly as her mouth disengages completely from anything meaningful she’s trying to say. 

“Just keep up that pressure, I’ll be back in a minute.” 

Dennis leaves, and Dee is left at an odd angle on her side, contemplating the good fortune that she decided to wear her ugliest bra this morning and staring aimlessly at the halogen bulb overhead. She tries to hold the towel down firm on her side but it doesn’t want to stay in place and keeps slipping away. 

Screw it, if she dies in this bathtub she wants Dennis to have a real fucking awful time trying to clear up the mess before he dumps her body in the Schyulkill. 

“So, I think it’s probably best to just stitch you back up and call this a day, you know?” Dennis’s voice is still infuriatingly conversational as he comes back into the bathroom. He stops when he sees her, and the towel definitely not adequately soaking up her blood. “Goddammit, Dee. I said to hold that thing in place.”

Dee groans at him, hoping that the general sentiment of ‘get fucked Dennis’ shines bright through her inability to articulate herself. 

Something rattles and clatters as Dennis settles himself back on the edge of the bath. Dee tries to look at him but he seems much too big from this angle and really, she wishes he would just sort of drop dead and stop bothering her. 

“Now this may sting a little.” Dennis assures her. “But I promise you it’s for the best.”

A shiny new pinprick of pain follows three seconds later, right over the edge of the knife wound. Dee yelps and almost manages to leap straight out of the bath. “What the shit? What the fucking shit?”

“Dee!” Dennis’s mouth is pursed, annoyed. “I’m trying to set this right but I’m starting to think you don’t appreciate my help. Will you sit the fuck down and let me fix this?

She looks down and sees a needle held in his hand, shaped strangely and with a weird plastic looking thread hanging from one end. Dee’s head spins and she falls back into the bath on impulse. “Why’d you even have that?”

“My suture kit?” Dennis smiles, small and private. “You never know when you’re going to need to sew something up, Dee.”

Sometimes she could kick him in the face. But she’s in pain and she’s maybe lost a noticeable amount of blood and even if the needle hurts it’s still maybe not as bad as having an open hole in her side. 

“Just lie back.” Dennis urges her, his voice coming rushed and soft. “Lie back and let me take care of you.”

Like he’s ever done fuck all but complicate her life. The needle is sharp but his hands are careful, and he moves so fast that the rumbling wave of pain shuts off pretty quickly. Dee can feel the blood stop, feel her guts still trying to tighten over empty space and hey, maybe she’ll wind up in hospital because of this sooner or later. 

“There you go.” Dennis hums, running a thumb over the wound and then continuing up her side, hooking it under her bra. “Dee, this thing is disgusting. I keep telling you, no man is ever going to want you unless you start taking my fashion advice.”

“Shut up Dennis.” Dee drones. There’s black creeping into the edges of her vision and she desperately wants to pass out. Goddammit. A knife to the gut is like a bottle of vodka with none of the thrill of forgetting who the hell she is. 

Dennis ignores her, packing up his sutures and washing his hands in the sink. “I tell you what, Dee. Mac isn’t back for a couple of hours. If you can get yourself to my bedroom by the time he comes home, I’ll let you crash. Does that sound good? Then you won’t have to go across town on the bus.”

It sounds amazing. Dee imagines herself, curled up on Dennis’s mattress, falling into blissful sleep. She’ll be out cold, of course, and no doubt Dennis will leave the cameras running as he works out exactly how much he can do to her before she wakes up. He’ll file her away in his draws under a code name and she’ll never find out if he ever rewatched the tape. 

Fuck it. Her limbs feel like lead but Dee doesn’t let that stop her. She staggers out of the bath in her blood stained jeans and bra and starts towards Dennis’s bedroom. Motherfucker better be ready for her, she’s about to crawl into that bed and never fucking leave. 

**Author's Note:**

> This work was originally posted as part of a multi chaptered 'whumptober' fic that I'm trying to split up. If you think you've read it before, you probably have


End file.
